Nothing
by Qindarka
Summary: Pietro can't handle a little antiseptic by himself, but it's fortunate that John kinda owes him. Very fortunate. SLASH st.john/pietro--pytro--pyro/quicksilver


**I want to just about say "idk" for everything i write anymore haha. This takes place in my made up moment in time a little after the events in "Dark Horizons, Pt.2". I'm sure there wasn't even a moment where this could have been possible, haha. But I've watched that episode far too much and I keep making over-analyzing possible scenarios. **

**Also, the injuries and/or severities of them are fudged and made up, I think. And Pyro may or may not be in character. Also I abused the italics :D**

**ps, go write fic for this pairing lol I'm not giving up, sorry**

**-**

It had been easy getting the antiseptic onto the cotton ball. Yes, _that _much was perfectly fine.

But actually applying the cotton ball to his bleeding hand? That was a little hard for Pietro. It was a wonder that something so tiny and so fluffy could bring the mutant son of Magneto so much trauma and misery.

Sitting on the floor of the Brotherhood's bathroom, he narrowed his eye at the offending object in his left hand, holding it tentatively about a quarter of an inch away from the gash on right. It was close enough to prove to himself that he was in fact a "grown boy who could handle his own injuries", yet far enough to ease his anxieties of "oh _god_ it's gonna _sting!" _

Pietro usually had a pretty high tolerance for pain--however, that may or may not have had something to do with his super-speed often rescuing him from situations where he could ever be injured. He normally could get himself out of a brawl without any harm done, or at most a bruise or a scrape. If any garnered wound _did_ draw blood, a _band-aid _usually sufficed to fix it.

Then again, he also didn't usually go around _saving_ people. In fact, this one occasion he decides to think of someone other than himself is the _one_ time he gets painfully injured.

_'Fucking Pyro_,' he thought bitterly. '_That's the last time I save ANYONE'S ass but my own.'_

His injury wasn't _too_ terrible, but it _was_ a large gash, snaking its way like a fault line from his knuckles, up the back of his hand and about a fraction of the way up his forearm. He wasn't sure how deep it was, but, though it hurt, it certainly wasn't fatal. It definitely didn't seem serious enough to need stitches, but like hell he was going to the hospital to find out. The minute they would find out he was a mutant, he couldn't even _begin_ to imagine what the consequences would be.

And Magneto wasn't around to spring him from jail this time.

He sighed irritably and shoved the memory away.

Though, he reasoned as he glanced back at his task before him, such a memory was _probably_ a hell of a lot more bearable than this.

The cotton and Pietro had an intense staring contest for several long minutes before Pietro decided to fuck the whole thing and hope running water would be good enough. He squeezed the alcohol out of the cotton bitterly, and turned to toss it in the toilet, but a long shadow from the light in the hallway enveloped him before he got the chance.

"That looks painful."

Pietro blinked for a half a second before snapping his head up. Seeing Pyro leaning nonchalantly in the doorway, a grin slathered across his face, forced a groan out of him.

He glared. "Who let _you_ in?"

Though that sort of greeting probably should have been offensive, it only made John smile wider. "Oh, well, I just came in. You really should invest in less lazy teammates, mate."

"You mean like _you_?"

Pyro took the sarcasm as a lack of hostility, and then took the lack of hostility as an invitation to join Pietro in the bathroom, limping as he did so. He laughed. "Pietro, I missed your _quick wit _around our place_,_ but now you're just breaking my heart..." He winked and Pietro rolled his eyes. "But I'm serious about those guys downstairs. I mean it, I'm getting second-hand embarrassment just knowing them through _you_."

"What do you want?" Pietro continued, ignoring Pyro's remarks.

"You," John blurted out quickly. He paused for a second, thinking about what he said as he noticed Pietro's face become very confused. Then he laughed again, that same crazy laugh he was so fond of chortling. "I mean, I came to check on you. See how you're holding up." He glanced down, taking a good look at Pietro's arm and the sad state the boy was in on the floor. "I didn't by any chance have something to do with causing that, did I?"

"Well, gee, I guess you're not as dumb as you look," Pietro snapped.

"Oh, don't be like that..." John cooed, suddenly kneeling and crawling toward Pietro wearing a feign look of hurt. He winced slightly as he crawled on his bad leg, but didn't let it deter him from teasing the other boy. "It's not like I asked for you to get hurt, too."

To this, Pietro could merely scoff and look cross, all while cradling his throbbing injured hand. From his new angle on the floor, John was able to inspect the wound more clearly, and his expression grew faintly worried.

"...are you just gonna let that get worse? Do you even know what you're doing?"

The response he got was a cold stare and more silence, and John couldn't help but smile, enamored by how stubborn and pouty the boy could be. He always did have a thing for the incontrollable.

In a bout of spontaneity, Pyro quickly stood up, startling Pietro, who watched him leave. The boy was left to sit in silence for a moment, refusing to acknowledge his fleeting feeling of disappointment as he watched John leave. Within moments, however, the other mutant returned, a bandage and a clean wash cloth in his hand. He dampened the cloth in the sink, then knelt by Pietro again.

"Y'know, that Toad bloke is a real nice fellow. Showed me where you guys keep all this stuff." Pyro smiled eagerly, holding out a hand for Pietro to place his into.

Pietro stared at the offered hand, partly in fear and partly in confusion. He wasn't sure how willing he was to trust the _madman_ before him with his wounds. This was the same guy who thought it was fun to cackle, spout stereotypical Australian slang, and burn people alive all at the same time. Plus, Pietro was still supposed to be mad at him.

"Come _on_, I never bite on a first date, promise," Pyro coaxed gently, smiling sweetly, "Plus, it's the least I can do, right? That's my fault, _remember_?"

The silence continued, but Pietro seemed to be considering the proposal. With a slight hesitation at first, he removed his hand from where it had been nestled against his chest. Then, with a regretful sigh and exaggerated glance upward, he slipped his thin, lithe fingers between John's coarse and warm awaiting hand.

The grin John then wore threatened to burst off his face. It worried Pietro _immensely_ and he almost retracted his hand, until John said, "this is just water, alright?" and began to dab gently at the wound with the cloth in his hand. It was cold and the pressure was slightly tingly against the gash, but Pietro was taken aback by the care of the other man's hands.

After about two minutes of silence into the cleaning process, John suddenly spoke again. "Look, mate... I just wanna say... Thanks for saving my ass back there. In Giza, I mean. Those statues would've toasted me for sure." His eyes were concentrated on tending to the wounds, but for a brief second, he glanced up, eyeing Pietro flirtatiously from beneath his eyelids. "But you know how I get in the heat of the moment. Just can't _control _myself_..._"

This caused the other boy to roll his eyes and look away at the wall. "Yeah, well, lucky _I'm_ around to rescue slowpokes like you, then."

Pyro hummed quietly as he dabbed, looking highly amused. "Mmhm, I am very lucky to have you..." he mused, more to himself than Pietro. His eyes searched upward again. "How many times did you save me back there? Four?"

"Three," Pietro corrected. "Finding you guys an exit, knocking out the statues, pulling you out of the line of fire..."

"Ah, ah." The cleaning was finished, and Pyro paused before continuing. "You forgot carrying me around with my gimp of a leg... Quite the gentleman you are, eh? And to think, had I been that X-_Man_, you would've left me to _crawl_ to safety, hmm?" He reached over to Pietro's other side to grab the bottle of antiseptic, and began unscrewing the top.

Pietro visibly winced, eyeing his actions very carefully and looking ready to run the hell out of there if Pyro did what he thought he was doing. The look hadn't gone unnoticed by John, who found the whole situation frighteningly adorable. He bit back a laugh.

"Don't worry, love," he mumbled around a smile, rubbing his thumb across Pietro's fingers in reassurance. "I'll be gentle with you..." The fear on Pietro's face had long since gone and had been replaced with disgruntlement, a blush clear on his cheeks. Pyro laughed. "We don't want it to get infected, right?"

With one hand, John poured the contents of the bottle onto the dry side of the wash cloth. He raised to let Pietro know what he was doing, then slowly and deliberately, he dabbed the wound.

The pain that suddenly shot through Pietro's whole arm and up to the nerves in his brain was _piercing_. It felt like his hand was on fire, and he wiggled uncomfortably where he was sitting, whimpering and groaning, squeezing his face as a response to his pain.

John smiled gently, guiding Pietro's hand closer to himself, or his face, more specifically. As it hovered just beyond Pyro's lips, he began to blow upon the spot he had just dabbed, sending a relieving feeling of coolness coasting in response to the heat. It took a few seconds for Pietro to relax, but he eventually did, his eyes glazed over and his lids heavy with relief. The process had to repeat itself many times, and eventually Pietro had gotten used to it enough to not be as bothered after each successive application.

And, oh, how Pyro loved it. It was like caring for a kid.

"I'd also..." John said in the middle of the disinfection, in hopes of distracting the boy, "...like to apologize. I mean, I'm sorry that... you coming back for me allowed this to happen. I know you could've just run out of there and... let's just say it was real sweet of ya to bother putting yourself in danger just for little ol' me."

It was here that Pietro officially stopped squirming and forgot he was in pain.

"Real sweet. You're a real sweetheart when ya wanna be, ya know that?"

"No, I'm not."

John laughed. "Right, right. Okay, you're not. Saving me was _so_ unlike you." He paused. "Well, if that's the case, the only explanation for what happened is that you're sweet _on me_. You got a crush on me, mate?"

"Shut the hell up, Allerdyce."

"Shutting." John smiled fondly.

The disinfecting lasted a few more quiet minutes before Pyro deemed Pietro's wound clean enough. Pietro watched him toss the dirty cloth in the trash before reaching for the bandages. Taking a long strip, Pyro began wrapping Pietro's hand, going firmly around with the bandage several times before securing the loose end of the strip in place.

Beaming with pride, he held the wrapped injury up to Pietro. "Ta-da! Amazing, aren't I?"

"_Astounding_."

"How's it feel?"

Pietro pulled back from Pyro's released grip, moving his hand around and flexing his fingers. It still hurt, but very minimally, which was a big difference from an hour ago. "...it's seen better days," he finally admitted, not wanting to give John the satisfaction.

A snap of John's fingers stole Pietro's attention from his hand. The other mutant looked serious, which in of itself was concerning. "Ah, I know why! I forgot something!" Using one hand, he snatched Pietro's hand midair and drew it to himself again. Pietro wasn't sure what to expect (he never could with Pyro), but of all the things that _could_ have happened, what did certainly threw him off.

With one last gentle caress of his thumb, John pulled Pietro's hand close to his face, close to his mouth, bent his head over, and tenderly pressed his lips against the boy's fingers. Glancing up and seeing the mortification on Pietro, John smirked against his hand.

"Wha-what the _hell_ are you doing?"

"Kissing it better, of course," John said.

Pietro stammered, flustered and, for once, at a loss for words. Neither said anything, and Pyro didn't wait for permission before giving loving attention to each individual finger, causing Pietro to become even more flustered.

"Well--!" Pietro finally said, and Pyro stopped expectantly, highly amused. "If-if you're gonna do that... well.. you're not even kissing the right spot, you idiot!"

John couldn't have asked for a better response. Without further instruction, he planted a long and tender kiss upon the spot he had just bandaged, but he didn't stop there. He turned the hand over, molesting the palm with his mouth. When satisfied, he began dragging his lips across Pietro's skin, up his arm, kissing him lightly in several spots, ghosting over areas in ways that made the boy shiver under his touch. He kissed across his forearm and, because Pietro didn't stop him, went on kissing up his upper arm.

"Feel better yet?" he asked, his mouth devouring a corner of the boy's shoulder.

"......"

John smiled. Well, then kissing his arm obviously wasn't enough. In fact, kissing obviously wasn't enough. He began nipping and slightly sucking with each successive kiss, trailing from Pietro's shoulder to across his collar bone. He eased closer, still holding Pietro's hand, and clutched the boy's chin, tipping it sideways to allow access to his neck, where now his tongue was present and his kissing became hotter and wetter and more fierce. His actions were starting to elicit delightful noises; Pietro tried to hold them back at first but a moan slipped from behind his lips. Trailing the jaw line earned a very needy, "_J-John..."_. Such things were only encouraging.

Pyro slid between Pietro's legs, pressing against him and causing him to arch his back against the edge of the tub. The kisses made their way to the corner of Pietro's mouth, teasing him now as they darted around their target. In his hand, Pietro's hand squeezed and the sensation brought John to mercy. Clutching Pietro's chin, he tipped the boy's head back, gazed at the look of sheer pleasure on the boy's face, and kissed him long and hard on his awaiting lips.

The jolt of emotion it shot through Pietro was sensational and completely drowned out the pain in bad hand as he stole it from John's grasp to grab a fistful of the front of his shirt, pulling that torso and that body and that warmth closer to him. John used his now free fingers to pull Pietro's face and his lips and that _heat_ beyond closeness. And those same hands and that same heat and all that closeness traveled like fire between every area of their bodies, leaving nothing untouched. They kissed intensely like this for a few seconds and, though Pietro could barely think coherently enough, he was already eagerly planning out ten steps ahead where he wanted this to go... before John drew back suddenly. The disappointed moan that involuntarily left Pietro almost simultaneously made him regret it immediately, but he had to know.

"You forgive me, right, for being helpless and letting your hurt yourself as a result?"

A growl sounded in the back of Pietro's throat, as if he were annoyed at such a stupid interruption. "Look, Allerdyce, we both know it wasn't your fault, so just drop it!"

"But your wound..."

"It's _nothing_, really. It wasn't _that_ bad, don't give yourself a heart attack for _my_ sake."

John couldn't help pressing forward, grinning playfully. "So you're not mad at me, then?"

Pietro narrowed his eyes. "I will be mad if you don't finish where you left off."

"Oh, ho ho, eager are we? Well, I do believe I still owe you for saving my life." He leaned forward, pressing his lips against Pietro's ear. "But, remember, when I'm in the moment, I simply can't _control_ myself... who knows what kind of pain you'd be in after _this_..."

Pietro didn't need to hear that twice. He was up on his feet in half a second, John's hand in his, tugging him in the direction of his room.

Pyro laughed loudly as the door slammed behind them.


End file.
